Time's Mysteries
by Alice Chandler
Summary: Chapter 3 up! Ok, a definite AU with partial HP crossovering. Not for Holmes puritans. A girl finds herself in a place extremely far from home...a few countries, a few centuries, a few dimensions away. Please tell me whether you like it or not.
1. A Whole New World

Disclaimer: Okay, this is all a bunch of words I just wrote down. Holmes and Watson and any other regular characters belong to Conan Doyle, and the little references about Harry Potter and all the ideas that go along with those works are owned by the ever-so-lucky J.K. Rowling. My humble little character, Alice/Krystin, is mine.if you could put it that way.  
  
  
  
All I did was sit down at the computer downstairs to work on my homework. Really! That's it. Just sitting at the computer, ready to do my stupid English report, when suddenly, I find myself in another dimension. Truly. No joke on this one. This is too serious a matter to joke about. I'm just here one minute, somewhere another. It makes no sense! I'm here right now, trying to preserve my computer battery. Hey, I have no idea how long I'm gonna be stuck here. I have five extra batteries, though, and each one lasts for like two to three hours. That makes somewhere between twelve to eighteen hours. I can work this out. I think. I'll just type like the wind.  
  
Anyway, guess where I am. Just try to guess. I'll give you a hint: there aren't any plugs here. I'm dead! At least I brought lots of batteries for my headset, too. And I have lots of cd's with me, too. Good thing. If I didn't have them, well, along with my laptop, I'd die of boredom! Unless there's more in store for me here than meets my own seemingly-blind eyes.  
  
Give up yet? Well, I'll just tell you, then.through this little story.  
  
  
  
I can feel a floor beneath me, but it's hard. My body refuses to respond to the commands I give it. Heck, I can't even open my eyes or move my mouth.  
  
I can hear someone above me. "And what do we have here? Odd.I don't see many people unconscious in this neighborhood." It sounded somewhat cynical, this male voice. It was almost biting, the way it spoke. "Looks like a broken rib or two, possibly a fractured bone in her leg. But why is she unconscious? I see no problems with concussions here. Hmm.but this is not my expertise. I had better take her back to the rooms. Hopefully the doctor's in." And then, more blackness.  
  
When I woke up, I found myself in a very comfortable bed with covers piled on me. I've always loved lots of covers in bed. It was so deliciously warm and comfortable.until I felt the pains of bruises and bones. I must have let out a soft moan, for someone suddenly materialized over my head. My first thought: is my hair a rat's nest right now?  
  
Without my glasses (I must have misplaced them somewhere), I had a hard time making out who this person was. I mean, I didn't want to be intruding too much to anyone, you know. Especially if it was a guy. That's when I realized that I wasn't in my own clothes. Yeah, my underclothes (ya know) were still on, but I wasn't wearing my peasant shirt and flares. Where were they, anyway? I didn't like to wear someone else's outfits, especially male pajamas. So, I was found by a bachelor, or bachelors. I wonder which? I suppose I would find out soon.  
  
"How was your night?" Bachelors. The voice was much different. It was deeper, less sharp, very kind and solicitous. He seemed a very nice guy. At least, that's what his voice told me.  
  
"Fine," I said, slipping into British mode for some odd strange reason. I usually don't do my British accent, but I just kind of did it in my subconscious self or something, but that's what came out. "Thank you for asking."  
  
"Why of course. I am a doctor, you know." That's when I realized that something was on my chest. Like right on my chest. I must have blushed or something, because he smiled widely. I hate that. It's so infuriating at times, but he made it look almost nice. "It's all right, dear. You just had a few broken ribs and a severely sprained ankle. Your bones will be hurting for a while, but I wouldn't put my mind's focus on them." That accent was purely British upperclassman. You could tell a mile away. Who was this guy, anyway? Not to be impolite or anything, but I like to thank my doctor by name.  
  
"Umm.excuse me, Doctor."  
  
"Oh, excuse my incorrigible manners. My name is Watson, Doctor John Watson. And you are."  
  
"Chandler.Miss Alice Chandler." I have always liked my pen name. But I was in shock. THE Dr. John Hamish Watson? But he lived in my books in London in the late 1800's, not in the real world in Pennsylvania in the early 2000's. This was too much to take in. "Excuse me.but.what year is this? I'm very sorry, but my head hurts horribly.must have hit it off something or other.but I can't remember.where exactly am I?"  
  
"Well, Miss Chandler, you are in 221b Baker Street, London. The year is 1891. It's January 14, if that helps you any. You have been in bed for just a night. You have seemed to sleep off the concussion very well. I hope, though, that you will enjoy the rare sunlight that streams through your window; London is one of the cloudiest places imaginable these times, yet there is sunlight pouring out of the clouds, as if just for you."  
  
Heh. If only you knew. I smiled when he had finished. My smile is one of my best weapons. It disarms the best of the best when it comes to people set in stoicism. Heh. "Thank you, Dr Watson. And, also, I wish to thank you for your two accounts of Holmes you have written. They have kept me occupied for many a long night." By January, he had only published his two novels on Holmes, though the first short stories were about to begin. It then dawned on me. The year, I mean. This was the year in which Holmes disappeared. One of the greatest mysteries of the Canon might just unfold right in front of me, if I waited long enough here: where did Holmes go for those three long years of hiatus? Just a few more months, right? It was some time in May, wasn't it? And this was January. Hmm.  
  
Watson was still smiling from my compliment. I believe there was a tinge of a blush on his face. Heh. "Thank you, Miss Chandler. I am very glad you enjoy them." He then just noticed that I was squinting to see him. "Oh, excuse my ill manners. Here." He placed my glasses on my nose. To my surprised, he placed them on my face correctly. Whenever anyone in my family tried to do that, they always put them on me in some type of odd fashion or another. (Crud. Now I'm typing in Victorian English.)  
  
Now I could see him. He was exactly as I had pictured him. He had thinning sandy blonde hair streaked with gray at his temples. His eyes were a misty blue. His skin was a very vague tan color, his mustache, the same color as his hair. He was not rail thin, but not beefy, either. Just a nice in between. He stood before me; I'd say five foot ten or eleven at most. Not the tallest of men, but taller than my five foot four. I wonder if Holmes would live up to my expectations of him? Most likely not.  
  
I must have been staring at him. "Miss Chandler?"  
  
"I'm very sorry, Doctor. I must have spaced off." Drat. I wonder if they used the phrase 'spaced off' in Victorian England? Most likely not.  
  
He gave me a quizzical look, then spoke. "I see.ahem." He cleared his throat in an oh-so-English way. "Well, I shall be talking to you some time soon. I must go off on my rounds. I will look in on you in a few hours?"  
  
"Yes, that would be appreciated greatly, thank you, Dr Watson," I said, smiling to make up for my spaciness.  
  
He nodded as he walked towards the door. Before he left, though, I stopped him with a question. "Doctor, exactly how long will I be in bed?"  
  
"I'm not sure exactly how long," he said, turning around, "but I should say no more than a week." Great. A week. I might as well be a permanent invalid.  
  
"Did you happen to find a bag with you when you found me?"  
  
"I did not find you; someone else did. And yes, your bag was found. It is right next to the bed. Would you like me to place it next to you in bed?"  
  
"Yes, thank you. That would be very helpful." Good thing I had planned to spend a few days at my friend's house before I was brought here. It would have been difficult if I had not. Very difficult. Good think about everything imaginable with me when I travel to her house, too. I usually find myself needing everything, too.  
  
He placed my bag next to me, along with my purse, strangely. I was very glad I had it, though; it has my brush in it, and I knew my hair must have been a rat's nest.  
  
He left the room, leaving me to my thoughts and my bags. Heh. I wonder if they looked into my bags or not? Considering the fact that Holmes was in the same apartment, he probably had. Great. How do I explain? Well, I'll get to that when he asks, and only then. I have enough to think about. Like how to get back home. And get back to school.  
  
Well, I decided that, while I have some free time, I was going to do my homework on my laptop. I got my laptop out of my bag, checking the battery: it was still good. I opened it and booted it up, beginning to make an introductory paragraph in my mind.  
  
As I typed, I thought. How exactly did I get here? Why here, of all places? And am I in another dimension of some sort? Or were Holmes and Watson real people? What was I going to do, anyway? Did my magic still work here? Or was I muggelized through this whole ordeal? I truly hoped not.  
  
For a test, I decided to try healing myself. It worked. Anyway, bandages are such nuisances.  
  
Now that I could stand on a healed (yet slightly weak) ankle, I decided it was time to go use the facilities. I took my makeup bag I used as my toiletries holder and headed out the door, deciding that, just in case Holmes came across me, I'd act like I had a sprained ankle; in other words, I hopped to the bathroom while holding onto the wall for support. Good thing my friend wasn't here to get a picture of this one.  
  
I stopped in terror. I had no idea where the bathroom was! Drat! I had forgotten to ask that one. Then again, how would I have gotten there with a sprained ankle alone?  
  
Well, I'd have to chance it. I'll just randomly open doors until I come across it. It can't be that hard to find, can it?  
  
Well, here was the first door. I decided to try it. It was locked. Either Holmes was using the restroom, or it wasn't the restroom. I opted for the latter, and kept searching for the right room, stumbling upon this other room, half opened. I, being more curious than a cat, was unable to resist the temptation: I walked into the bedroom. Holmes' bedroom.  
  
It was a simple affair, with forest green walls and a simple four-poster bed of mahogany. This was definitely not Mrs. Hudson's furniture. It was too rich, too nice. Even the bedspread was a beautifully quilted affair of dark greens and blues, mixed with cream. His dresser matched his bedpost, a beautiful mahogany, polished to shine, even though it was somewhat more tarnished after the years have gone by. I ran my sleeve against it, remembering not to leave fingerprints. I accumulated much dust on my sleeve. Obviously, Mrs. Hudson was not allowed in this room. She would have never let it go to this if she had the chance to come and clean.  
  
It was when I was speculating these things when I could hear footsteps coming from the other room (which must have been the bathroom). He must be finishing up. Drat. He better not come into his room. That would not be a good thing.  
  
Luck seemed to have favored me, because I heard his footsteps leave the small hallway and walk away from the door. I breathed again, though still very silently. I heard a door shut. It must have been the door that separates the sitting rooms from the hallway of bedrooms. Fine with me. I could do with that nicely.  
  
I hopped my way towards the bathroom, my bag in hand, very happy I could do my business privately. I was even happier when I entered; there was indoor plumbing! And a nice hot tub sat there, inviting me into it. But, I decided, that would take too long. Anyway, there wasn't any plug for my hairdryer. I'd do it later. I just needed to get this nasty taste out of my mouth and clean myself up, not to mention to do my business. And putting in my contacts would be a relief.  
  
A few minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom, forgetting the sprained ankle entirely, when I saw Holmes pop his head into my room. Watson must have commissioned him to look in every once in a while. He must have gotten a little shock when I wasn't in there. What I would have given to see his face! He must have heard me giggling, because he spun around on his heels to look at me.  
  
And so, we stood opposite each other, both staring at each other, though his stare was most likely more calculating than mine. Mine was purely shock. I mean, it's not every day you get to meet a Legend of literature in person.  
  
He was exactly as I had imagined him to be. He had brown hair, wavy, brushed back, even though a little bit slid into his eyes. His features were thin, straight, but with lots and lots of character. His face was thin, too, with a slightly larger nose, a cross between a Roman and Greek nose. His eyes, though, were the first things that caught my attention. Those eyes had life of their own. They were a sparkling grayish blue, lively, quizzical, and alive. They were alive. His eyes were like nothing I have ever seen before, full of energy and brightness. I wish I had my camera then.  
  
We kept staring at each other for a few minutes, then he spoke, saying, "Do I have the pleasure of meeting a Miss Chandler of Pennsylvania?" Hmm.where did he get the Pennsylvania thing? Do I look like a Quaker or something?  
  
"And do I have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a Mr. Sherlock Holmes of Surrey?" That caught him off guard. Not bad, not bad at all. Holmes must have asked if Watson told me his name yet or not. Which he didn't, of course, explaining the catching of him off-guard.  
  
He regained himself very well, though, and within moments, he was back to his aloof self, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "It seems that we already have been notified of each others' presence."  
  
"Actually, I'm very sorry to burst your hopes, but Watson never told me the name of the person who lives here. You, namely, Mr. Holmes." He stared at me some more. I was beginning to get a little unnerved by it, too. I couldn't show it, of course. I mean, this is Sherlock Holmes, the guy that has a problem with the female gender all around. It was time to prove him wrongly. I smiled ingratiatingly at him. He almost glowered, but kept his composure, being the gentleman that he was. Heh.  
  
"I do hope you are feeling better?" Drat. I still had my ankle down. I hope Watson didn't tell him about that, too. Most likely not, though. Drat.  
  
"Yes. Much, thank you." Well, the game was up, Chandler. I walked over to him, seeing he wasn't going to do it himself. I held out my hand.  
  
He must have been very surprised because, for a while, all he did was stare at my hand. Again, he composed himself very quickly and shook my hand. He had a firm grip, too, to add to his thin body, though you could tell there were muscles and a six-pack. (Exercises, I tell you! He exercises, no matter what he says about it!)  
  
It must have been an odd contrast. He, dressed in a gentleman's suit (not his dressing gown, mouse-colored or otherwise), I, wearing his pajamas, which made him to be a few inches over six feet. He, with brown hair; I, with long, straight, black tresses. He, with gray blue eyes; I, with dark brown ones. He, with tall muscular body; I, with short slim body. His skin, pale; mine, tanned. We made quite a pair. Quite a pair.  
  
He looked at me again. His eyes were piercing through my soul right then. "It is good to see you walking about."  
  
"Yes, it is. I am feeling much better now. Dr. Watson does wonders." Heh. No, really. "Do you mind if I eat luncheon? I am somewhat hungered after my.incident.last night." Without asking much more, I brushed past him towards the door. He was probably wondering how I knew the time-good old ring watch! Knew it would come to use some day!  
  
As I entered the room, I stopped. It was exactly as I had thought it would be. The jackknife with its notes behind it, the Persian slipper near the comfortable chair, the violin case in a corner of the room. A table for two on the side. A desk. A few lamps. Very intriguing. A Holmesian's dream. Then again, this whole experience would be a Holmesian's dream. I don't blame them, either. This was, partially, my dream, too. But meeting Holmes and Watson were first and foremost. Looks like three dreams on my list have been met. Good. I'm making progress I thought would be impossible to make. Not bad at all. I noticed that coffee had been sent up, but not breakfast. It looks like Holmes entered around then, too. He kind of just stared at me as I stared around the room like a gawking patron at an art museum or someone visiting Versailles.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Miss Chandler." I turned around immediately when he cleared his throat. "Breakfast has not been sent in yet. It shall be in a few minutes. Would you please wait for a few moments? It will take Mrs. Hudson about ten minutes before breakfast will be ready. I have been experimenting with different acids and their properties. If you do not mind.?" And with that, he was at work on his chemical experiment, leaving me to my own entertainment. Which was very nice of him, in my opinion. I suppose he did not feel like being solicitous with me. Fine by me. I knew I'd get enough of that from Watson. I was expecting something like this, but maybe more questions about why I was here and so forth. Oh well. He'll get the answers eventually. I just have to make them up, first.  
  
I decided to back to "my" room and figure out exactly what I was going to do. I didn't want them to hear my computer logging on. I didn't want to chance my headsets, either. I seem to blast them pretty loudly. I guess I haven't grown up entirely. But then again, a twenty-year-old isn't exactly grown up, is she? I'm allowed to be a little bit like a teenager, right? Right. For me at least.  
  
Well, since I couldn't do much, I decided on reading. Let's see.what have I brought with me? I have my whole Mary Russell series with me (wouldn't it be funny if Watson or Holmes got their hands on these!), my complete compendium of Holmes cases with a million appendixes in the back, a few romances, and the Harry Potter books (Heh. Good thing the person that wrote these books decided to put them in fiction! Their veiled truths, if ever found out, would terrify the muggle world!). Amazing how I got all those books in my bag, let alone my computer and headset and cd's.magic is one of the best things to ever happen to this world!  
  
I decided I'd read one of my romances. The title of the trilogy was Mark of the Lion. They'd be less offensive than anything else I had brought with me. Especially my Russell books and my Holmes stories. Watson would keel over! Holmes would keel over, for that matter! We can't have them knowing anything about those, now could we? No. That'd be just too much for them, I know.  
  
I sat there, reading my engrossing book. Yeah, I'd read them already, but they were good! They're the only romance novels I enjoyed, and that's because they really weren't all that romantic! They were more drama/action/adventure/angst, you know?  
  
Anyway, I must have sat there for two hours, for I heard my stomach rumbling. I then realized that lunch must be frozen in there by now.  
  
I left the room and went into the main room, Holmes still working at his chemicals, though the room now had a smell of acids and sulfur, which was not appealing to my taste buds at the moment.  
  
The food sat at the table, a silver cover on top of them. Mrs. Hudson must know either that her food is never eaten directly after she brings it up, or that some chemical will make it taste like paint and arsenic. Smart woman, Mrs. Hudson is. She knows Holmes and Watson better than a mother knows her sons. Funny, I thought. Very funny.  
  
I sat down at the table to my cold lunch. Mmm.roast beef and mashed potatoes with green beans and a hot roll. This is more like my dinner! Or, should I say supper?  
  
Regardless, I began to eat, the sound of liquids being poured and the clinking of glass beakers as my background music. I slurped my coffee loudly, making Holmes start and almost drop the beaker of acid in his hands. He gave me a murderous look, telling me plainly that the liquid must have been very acidic, and turned back to his work.  
  
With his head bent, he asked, "Enjoying your luncheon?"  
  
"Yes." A long pause. I was almost done with my lunch when he decided to interrupt my chewing again.  
  
"Are you enjoying your stay?" he asked, his head bent down to his experiment. His hair slid down into his face.  
  
"Yes, thank you," I said, feeling a flush beginning to creep up my face. I have always been horrible at talking to any kind of men, except my father, of course.  
  
Instead of sitting there in discomfort, I decided it was time to leave and go back to the bedroom. I stood from the table, made a face at Holmes' bent head, and walked out of the main room, shutting the door behind me as I entered my room. I went back to my reading.  
  
I love books. They let me forget where I am and who I am. They let me lose my identity for a while. It was a nice change from my reality, my true life.  
  
What is my true life, you might be asking? Well, being one of the most powerful witches in America in over two centuries and only twenty isn't easy to handle. Joining with the famous Ian K. Qwest of England to defeat the infamous Dark Lord de Lotrum, also known as Waldo Mumrolt Reid, was not exactly a walk in the part, either. Well, not everyone has a reasonable middle name! (Waldo Mumrolt Reid. I am Lord de Lotrum. Confusing, but you get the idea.) But, as things turned out, I was the only one to return home with every part of myself intact, including my mind and spirit. All were battle weary, of course-myself included-but I came back with all of my appendages, with my two ears and two eyes, with my sanity still there and my spirit still strong and willing to keep on living. Qwest.well, he came back, still with his spirit and sanity, but he had lost two fingers in the process. Now, as I look back after a few months of battle, I was probably the first one to get used to regular wizarding life again. Odd, how the one that went through the most-apart from Qwest, who went through everything I did and more-went back to normal mode first. It's amazing that the battle took place only five months ago.  
  
What happened to Qwest? Well, he became engaged to Ivy Hunter. I think they are supposed to get married in five months. Well, according to when I left home, January 6, 2003, they were to get married in five months. Here, it's a little bit more different.  
  
And what became of twenty-year-old Krystin S. Yatsumi? Well, she went back home to her own life and decided to try out a muggle college. She had already graduated from Salem Academy, the American Hogwarts, but she didn't feel like teaching there just yet. Maybe some other year in the near future, especially after what has happened. But, she decided to major in journalism in the muggle college, and must do lots and lots of reporting, editing, grammar, and practicing. That is why I'm writing this account. I wish to see how well I can manage this. And no quick quotes quill, thank you very much!  
  
Now, I am here, trying to figure out why and how this happened. A wizard or witch could have figured out how to make someone travel time (and dimensions, possibly) and set a trap for me as a guinea pig. Or it could have been a mistake. Or this might just be a reality world set up by some evil death eaters that still linger. (Yes, they are called death eaters, though why, I haven't the slightest. Rawling did keep that tidbit for some reason or another.)  
  
Whatever it is, I think I'm going to enjoy it. So, if it's my enemies, HA! I'm enjoying this to the fullest! It's not every day you get to meet one of your idols and his trusty companion!  
  
So.what do you think? Good? Bad? I know; it is EXTREMELY informal, but I've been writing enough reports to make me simply and utterly disgusted by the thought of writing something so formal. I get sick of that kind of thing easily. Other chapters will be better, I hope. *gulp* Please, tell me what you think by pressing that little button down in the left-hand corner.I'd really appreciate it! All flames will be used to cook some yummy hotdogs on an open fire! Constructive criticism would be great! 


	2. Poetry Predictions and Elemental Play

Here's the next chapter!!! Thank you, Kerowyn, for reviewing!!! This chapter goes out to you!!! I do hope the poem at the end is all right...I'm not all that great at poetry, you know...can't rhyme at all...  
  
And everyone knows that the only characters that belong to me are either unfamiliar or Alice. Hee hee hee!!! Enjoy!  
  
A/N: God, can't these people get my formatting right? This is the second time I've had to replace a chapter because they didn't do the formatting right!!! Kerowyn, the prediction is supposed to be a poem. I even had it set as a poem that rhymed! But, of course, they didn't take it as a poem, even if it was formatted as being centered and italicized and everything! Grr...hopefully this is formatted correctly...  
A few hours later, when I was a little more than halfway through the book, I heard a knock at my door. "Come in," I said after stashing away my book inside my bag.  
  
The door slowly opened to reveal a very suspicious Dr. Watson. I really don't blame him, either. If I had learned from a very astute friend that my patient had miraculously healed in a matter of minutes, I would be suspicious, too. And very curious, which Watson was.  
  
He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. He looked at my ankle, tested it, and probed it gently with his hands. It was perfectly fine. No swelling, no redness, no puffiness. His eyes displayed his emotions freely; they were filled with wonder, surprise, and still a bit of suspicion, which is perfectly understandable, if you think about it. I mean, he had no idea I could heal myself.  
  
He stroked his mustache, then said, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Perfectly fine, thank you," I said, smiling my smile again. He smiled back, relaxing a bit.  
  
"How long have you been able to walk on your leg?"  
  
"Since this morning." Might as well be to the point.  
  
"Anything wrong with it?"  
  
"Not at all, Doctor. I can walk on it perfectly, stand on it perfectly, run on in perfectly. No stiffness, no weakness, no wobbliness."  
  
"I see...and your ribs?" Ahh...here it comes.  
  
"They are also fine, thank you for asking."  
  
"May I see for myself?"  
  
Oh, I hate that! I didn't even let my dad see me like that when I was a little girl! I hated it when I had a male doctor! It only happened to me once, and that wasn't the most pleasant experience...he was taken to jail for ten years for it, and was unable to be a doctor ever again.  
  
I, of course, hesitated, but then nodded, blushing, yet pale around the gills, if you know what I mean. He ignored this, or did not notice it, and asked me to take off my shirt.  
  
Well, at least he asked me to do it; the last one just took it off for me!  
  
I did take it off, with much reluctance, then let it be. The bandages were still in place. "Could you take those off for me?" he asked in a very professional yet kind manner. How could I refuse? He was a doctor, not a molester! This is Watson, not some nut. I did, after a very long wait. I did it very slowly, hoping I would faint or something before it went along too much.  
  
When it was finally off, I just closed my eyes and waited for him to begin to probe me. I hated the thought. I despised the thought. I had always hated the thought of this happening. I guess that's when it happened.  
  
One minute, Watson's there, just about ready to touch me to check if my ribs are broken or not (okay, so I peeked) when suddenly, he was leaned against the other side of the room, sliding down the wall, and...oh, drat. I then realized that I must have been too frightened for him to do it. This was one of those times that I regretted the power of wandless magic. My wariness seems to not have let up since the war years. What jolly fun. Not. What a jolly mess I'd made!  
  
The thud of the doctor must have made a loud noise, for Holmes came bolting in. I summoned my shirt to me before he could open the door, but when he did, I was still pulling it over my head. Drat. He might have seen something.  
  
From the look on his face, he had seen something of a mite of it. But his attention was fully focused on his companion, who was leaning against the opposite wall, unconscious. I decided it was time to take some action. I hate to blow my cover, but I kind of had to.  
  
I strode over to Holmes' side (for he had reached Watson) and thought of Watson waking up. I concentrated hard, and suddenly, he was opening his eyes, blinking in dazed surprise and confusion. Holmes, who seemed to have at least some medical knowledge, was looking at me curiously. Okay, so I usually close my eyes when doing wandless magic. It's easier. I sighed. Time for a little memory charm. I hated memory charms, but I saw no other choice in this matter.  
  
I envisioned their minds, saw the information the both of them had in there, and erased their memories of what had happened. Or, at least, I thought I had erased their memories...  
  
They both stood up, Holmes helping up Watson with a proffered hand, and stood before me. I then noticed that their eyes were not unfocused, that they were just as they had been before. I was extremely confused. This didn't make any sense to me. Their eyes are supposed to become unfocused. They are supposed to mumble about what had just happened and beginning to lose it. Not just simply stand in front of me and stare hard at me as if I just grew three extra heads and twenty extra arms and legs!  
  
"I believe we need to talk, Miss Chandler," said Holmes. We decided to sit on the bed. At least, they did. They kind of pulled me onto it in between them. I did NOT like this at all. Nope, not one bit. I finally looked up into both of their eyes. They were both filled with suspicion, both of them eyeing me. I was beginning to get creeped out.  
  
Holmes began. "Miss Chandler, if that is you real name, exactly how old are you?"  
  
"I thought you'd be able to deduce that, Mr. Holmes," I said, coolly. There was no time to be beating around the bush on this one. Time for business. Anyway, that look he was giving me was beginning to give me the creeps.  
  
"Twenty-two, is it not?" I nodded my head in affirmation. So I'm immature. Leave it be. "And you are from the United States; it's the accent. It is not purely British, though, on the less talented ear, it could be very convincing. And you have a fiancé."  
  
"No, I'm sorry; this is my abstinence ring, my sexual purity ring, if you will."  
  
"I see." A Pause (with a capital 'P'). "And you are a witch."  
  
I just sat there, dazed. A what?! What had just come from his mouth? I just stared at him dumbly. I must have looked stoned or something.  
  
He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. "Whom are you working for? What did you come to find out? Tell me!" His voice went stone cold, stinging, biting and frozen.  
  
That's when I lost it. He thought I was a SPY?!? What in the world!? I am definitely not a spy! I could feel my anger rising in me. Suddenly, Holmes and Watson were both on the floor, stuck to it. I knew that binding spell was useful, once you tweaked a few things about it!  
  
"How DARE you think I'm a spy! Do I look like a spy? Why would I want to spy on YOU, anyway? What have YOU got to hide? Do I even look like I'm from this century?! No! Not one stinkin' bit! And you know what? I'm from 2003. Okay? 2003!!! Now explain that, sir! Just try to explain that, smarty-pants! And while you're at it, you can think of a way to get me home, too!" I stomped out of the room, leaving in a huff. They would get out of their predicament, eventually. Hey, if they could block out a memory charm, they'd be able to get out of that binding spell in at least an hour. It wasn't a strong one, for me, at least. I'd just explore in Holmes' stuff until then.  
  
I entered his bedroom, then realized that, most likely, he would have set up a camera type spell of some sort in there. I searched around the room, probing with my mind until I found one right in the top corner opposite the door. It was a traveling camera spell. Drat. This guys wasn't half bad. I dispersed it immediately, then found two others, dispersing of them immediately, also. Then, I searched his room.  
  
Knowing that everything that was important would have some type of spell, curse, lock, etc. on it, I decided to go through them first, to see this guy's talented. Not bad. He was a pretty powerful wizard, though not up to my standards. About ten notches below, in fact. Good thing I didn't let my magic dull my logic and senses. I could hear someone's footsteps coming closer. I put everything away, then locked everything up, putting all the defenses back up. I had been in that room for about an hour by then. It had taken him longer than I had expected.  
  
I immediately had my guard up when I heard the door opening, putting up a very strong shield around me. And who came in the door first? Watson.  
  
I had been expecting Holmes, but it seems that Watson was the stronger of the two when it came to magic. Interesting. I'd have to file that for another day to think about, for there wasn't enough time to now.  
  
He crossed towards me, then, sensing the shield, sat down two feet away from its magic. "I just want to ask you a few questions, Miss Chandler."  
  
"Only if you answer my questions, also."  
  
"Very well, I ask one first, then you will ask me one. Fair?"  
  
"Fair." I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs Indian-style.  
  
He looked at me, studied my face, then asked, "Exactly how strong is your power, Miss Chandler?"  
  
"Why, certainly, you saw for yourself. I am pretty powerful. I am also a mage and an elemental. I control just about any element you can imagine." I smiled. I got the same amazed and dazed look on his face, just like the look I had seen on so many others. "I also have the power of telekinesis." His eyes looked like they were about to bug out of their sockets.  
  
"Now, my turn to ask." I thought for a few moments, then asked, "When did you learn you were a wizard?"  
  
"When I was only three years old. To my recollection, I was falling down the stairs when I was suddenly found hanging in midair, laughing. My parents were surprised, for they were both muggles." He kind of blushed. I suppose he hadn't meant to say that much. Maybe Holmes was the one that usually interrogated. Must be.  
  
"Who do you work for?" he asked.  
  
"No one, Doctor. No one at all. Just myself and the causes I believe in."  
  
"And what are." he began.  
  
"Ah, ah, not yet, Doctor. You may ask when I am done. Why did you and Holmes want to know who I was working for?"  
  
He sighed, then said, "Miss Chandler, if you have not noticed yet, these times are very serious. This is a time of war, Miss Chandler. That is why we asked you for whom you worked. We were worried you were from the other side.  
  
"Now," he continued, "What are the causes you believe in?"  
  
"I believe in peace, prosperity, hope, love over hate, goodness over evil, mutual friendships of all peoples and all nations, goodness over the world's evils always, light always overcoming darkness, the usual stuff anyone would say if they were pure in their desires.  
  
"And what is your side's cause?" I said.  
  
He sighed deeply, a 'v' making itself prominent in his forehead. "My side's cause? It is to defeat the evil Dark Ruler Solarem and to regain light in this world of darkness. Have I not told you that sunshine is rarely seen? It is because of Solarem, not the fogginess of London. Everywhere, it is dark. The only place it has not reached is The United States. They are free, but will not be much longer. That is why we are in hiding, also.  
  
"And who have you battled against?" he asked.  
  
"Do you really want to know the future of the world?"  
  
"I doubt I will live that long," he said, a sad, regretful smile on his face. I would have to think about that later, though.  
  
"Well, then, I and a friend of mine, Ian Qwest, defeated the Dark Lord de Lotrum, restoring peace and light in our world. But, then again, in my world, this world is just a fantasy, a book. I'll show you later, but, Watson, I have all of the stories you will write in the future. In my world, they are actually written by a man named Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who some call your literary agent, but who is the actual author of the books. Obviously, you will never hear of de Lotrum unless our universes happen to pass each other. I suppose it was safe to have told you about de Lotrum...  
  
"Now, Watson, where exactly is your wound?" He was very confused by this remark; I suppose he was not expecting a question like that. "You know, Watson; your war wound while you were with the 'Northumberland Fusiliers'?"  
  
"Ahh, yes.that wound was actually from a close run-in with the Dark Ruler. It's on my leg." Heh. I knew it was on his leg the whole time! "Let me show you." He lifted his trouser leg. Up his leg, a huge scar was left, the shape of a cane. On closer inspection, it had markings on the cane, in some type of ancient rune. I'd have to look into it later, though, for right then came in Holmes, a raging bull if I've ever seen one!  
  
He stormed into the room, about ready to murder someone; he had that look in his eyes. That one that tells you 'hey, don't mess with me; I'm on the rampage!' To tell the truth, I wasn't exactly happy about that look. It wasn't exactly what I had ever liked to see in anyone's eyes except my enemies-I knew I had been doing something good-but I hoped that Holmes and Watson were not going to be my enemies. It didn't seem like it, either. It was a nice thought, though just one look at Holmes would quell that thought in a nice little splash of reality.  
  
"Ahh, Holmes, you have finally gotten out!"  
  
He spun towards Watson. "Why didn't you help me get out of that...thing!?"  
  
Watson chuckled. "Of course I didn't get you out of that charm, Holmes! It was a good test of your ability, anyways. You did it very well, though; I hadn't expected you to get out that soon."  
  
Holmes decided he'd deal with Watson later. He turned to me. "And YOU! What do you think you are doing? Don't you know you are in the presence of two very powerful wizards, miss? You could be in more trouble than you can imagine if the Magestry hears of this!" At the moment, I was thinking to myself, Holmes could easily be the great-great-great-great (etc.) grandfather of Shawn Xavier; hey, they both have explosive tempers and play chess well! It could happen!  
  
I must have chuckled or something of the sort, because I could see the whites of Holmes' eyes. It looked like they might bug out of his head soon. Then again, they did look somewhat 'buggy' at that point.  
  
He looked at me, then at Watson. He must have thought I had bewitched his friend or something of that sort, because he began to look at Watson strangely, then shook him by the shoulders, for goodness knows what reason. It's not like shaking someone will get him or her out of Imperio or something.  
  
He stared at me, a cold, hard glare, filled with malevolence. "What. Have. You. Done." He said it slowly, menacingly. Now I know why he was here; he was very impressive. But not too much for me...I think...  
  
"Why, whatever are you talking about?" I hope I was able to keep the tremble out of my voice. Be he powerful in wizardry or not, he was still a man to be afraid of, just in his stature and stance. That, and his mighty glare and commanding voice. And, might I add, his six pack.  
  
He gestured at Watson, who was looking quite bemused at the state of affairs. "Look what you've done to Watson?"  
  
"My dear Holmes, absolutely nothing has happened to me, thank you very much!" Watson was in a huff (even though it was just a bit of acting). It looked like he was pouting like a child. Holmes fell for the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.  
  
"See? Watson would never act like that! Let him go! Let him out of the Imperio curse right now!" He took out his wand and attempted to knock me out of consciousness, but my shield, of course, blocked that. If he wanted to even make a dint in that shield, he would have to try much harder than that!  
  
I think he attempted to put me under the Imperio curse after that, but of course, that didn't get through, either. This man would just never learn, would he? I never thought of Holmes to be so pig-headed, but, then again, I had never thought of him being a wizard. In fact, he was the least likely to be a wizard, in my eyes, at least. Oh well. That's all right. I'll give him a little lesson he will not forget any time soon.  
  
First, a little music would be needed. I lifted Holmes' Stradivarius with my telekinesis and began to play it. It was a lot harder than I had thought it would be, so I decided to let a friend of mine, one of my guardians, do it for me.  
  
I had better describe my guardians. I have a guardian for every element I control. I'm not sure if I've discovered all of my elements, so most likely, the list will become more extensive. But for right now, here's where they stand: My fire guardian is a red lion with bravery to beat all. My water guardian is a sleek dolphin, cunning and fun loving. My earth guardian is a huge towering oak tree, wise beyond the years of time. My air guardian is an enormous hawk, fierce yet tender at times. My cold ice guardian is a woman clothed in light blue and white, a mist hanging about her, the mystery thick around her. My thunder and lightning guardian is a man in yellow light, surrounded by a dark aura, filled with anger, yet is now, after much handling, better at controlling it. Two guardians control the sun, moon, and stars: twins, a young woman and a young man. They are supple and bright, always happy and dancing. The girl is the sun; the boy is the moon. They always make me laugh, yet are serious when need be. My illusions guardian is a very hard guardian to describe, for, as its title alludes, it is a bunch of illusions. It even fools me at times! It can make itself look like any other guardian, but cannot copy their attacks in full. He is good for a defense or decoy. He is a very important part of my team of elements. He helps me disillusion my opponents. My light guardian is a brightly glowing man, a magical staff in hand. He is very aloof and proud, but he is my favorite of the male guardians. I seem to relate to him better than any actual man on earth! We have very long conversations together. He is very intelligent and clear-headed. He is my most powerful guardian, because of the fact that he is light. My wind guardian, my personal favorite, is a beautiful woman, ever flowing and graceful, her hair always blowing, and her gown always lithe. She is clothed in wisps of clouds and bits of grass and flowers. She was the one I called to play the violin, for the wind makes its own music through everything else, making its musical talents the most beautiful.  
  
Well, as my wind guardian played, I allowed myself a few seconds to laugh at Holmes' face, then went back to work. I then let myself play around with my settings. I first changed the look of the walls...I think a safari setting for Holmes would be best. Then, I decided that the carpet was too plain; grass would do nicely. Savannah grass, of course. Following that came some beautiful trees and shrubs. Next came my fire guardian. He was enjoying himself immensely. Of course, he had to be very cautious of how he maintained his temperament. One time, he got angry in the Savannah and it took me an extremely long time to douse out all the flames, and then grow the grass back!  
  
Anyway, Holmes just kind of stood there, amazed. Watson was quite amazed, also, but I did not mind. I would explain this to them another time.  
  
I went on with my experimentations, changing the scene to one of arctic ice, letting my cold ice guardian show off a bit in her mysterious radiance. Holmes and Watson goggled at her magnificent beauty and the mystery behind her. My water guardian splashed in the background, playfully waiting its turn for attention. I let him have it when I let my cold ice guardian fade and left nothing but a little land surrounded by water. My water guardian now could have its glory. It splashed in the water and clicked playfully, asking them to come into the water and play. It leapt high into the air, gracefully arching its body in the faded light. (It was not time to show my light guardian. That would not come for a long time. They had not seen my wind guardian, as I made sure she was invisible; it was not her time, either.)  
  
Next came my air guardian, sweeping them up and into the air. They were both a little more than just nervous when this happened, especially when they were placed on a cloud and just sat there, staring at the huge hawk that hovered before them. I swear, if their jaws dropped any more, we would have to glue their mouths shut for the rest of their lives! I allowed my thunder and lightning guardian come next in all of his splendor. He came with lightning cracking and thunder crashing, rushing up to them in a huge bolt of lightning, stopping right in front of their faces. He had always enjoyed instilling fear inside my opponents. He was the one that took me the longest time to control. The others were either easy to control through a kind action, or they needed not to be controlled, like my light guardian.  
  
After a nice display of majesty from my thunder and lightning guardian, which scared Holmes and Watson in no mean bit, I had to cajole him out of the way, letting them see my sun, moon, and stars guardians. They began to smile as they saw the two of them frolicking in the sky, the girl, radiant; the boy, luminescent. I could see they were enjoying their chases and games, but I could not let them sit there forever. I still had to give my earth guardian a chance at some fun!  
  
They were soon let down by the air. Actually, they were dropped, but a bed of soft flowers and moss, crafted especially by my earth guardian, caught them. They looked behind them and saw a tree, just waiting to be leaned on. So, they leaned on that great towering oak tree. Not exactly the smartest thing in the world to do. Suddenly, they were moved from their spots and were picked up by my earth guardian, roots coming out of the ground and seizing them, lifting them up to the top of the oak. My earth element enjoyed surprises too, though less harmful ones than my thunder and lightning guardian. My oak studied them, watching them, looking at them. Watson, in his rashness, kicked the tree soundly at its only vulnerable spot: the space where I had put my wand back in its original setting. For when I had first seen the tree, a hunk of it was missing, the exact size of my wand. When I no longer needed my wand, I returned the piece back to its original place. Unfortunately, it still hurt. Too bad, Watson. He should have known better, though. Never mess with something that can pick you up with ease and squeeze the life out of you in less than a second.  
  
My oak felt merciful that day, though, and decided to hang Watson up from his ankles for a few minutes. When Holmes smirked, he got the same treatment. I was bursting out in laughter! My earth guardian smiled in its peculiar way, then set to work letting them down in the bed of flowers again. They were gasping for breath by the time they were down, and before they knew it, they were back on carpet in Baker Street.  
  
They just blinked for a while, and then sat there for a while. Holmes was the first one to speak. "Excuse me, Miss Chandler, but would it be within your means to explain to us exactly what has just happened?"  
  
"Not really, but let me give you a hint: ask Watson."  
  
He looked pointedly at Watson. Watson responded, "I haven't the slightest notion as to what she is asking." He relaxed onto the floor and rested there, contemplating what had happened.  
  
Holmes sat, too, looking at me, still trying to study me. I was very amused yet his gaze would never cease to amaze my senses...of inspiration for stories and bringing up strange thoughts like 'I wonder where the moon is positioned tonight?' and 'I wonder what we're having for dinner today?'  
  
I broke the silence. "Fine, then; if you're going to brood over there, Holmes, like an insolent child, and Watson, if you're going to be more silent than stone, so be it. I'll tell you, but you must not tell anyone else. I will know if you have, also." I must have forgotten to mention to them that I can detect people's auras easily and can see their emotions and thoughts literally flowing from them, because they just stared at me, then nodded their heads in affirmation. "Good. Now then...  
  
"Holmes, I am an elemental, as you have seen, a mage, and I have mastered the arts of wand-free magic and telekinesis." I'll keep the whole talking- to-animals part for a little something to scare them later on. Maybe they'll figure the elfin part later on their own. There was a moment of shock looking out from those gray-blue eyes of his, but they were quickly covered with indifference, though how he got that look to work right then, I have no idea. But he did, regardless.  
  
"Very interesting," he said at last. "And what else? Are you a Parselmouth as well? Or possibly a magnificent healer and such! And how have you been hiding all of this time, eh? Why have I never heard of you before?"  
  
"Because her name is not Alice Chandler, of course, Holmes," said Watson, placidly. "It is Krystin." Holmes immediately left off on his glaring. He suddenly looked at me in a new light, for some odd reason. Both of them just sat there, staring at me, contemplating one thing or another. I was getting very irritated with all of this nonsense. I decided it was time to speak up.  
  
"Excuse me, but what is the significance in my name being Krystin?"  
  
"It is in the prophecy," said Holmes, his eyes on a far-off place.  
  
"What prophecy?" I asked, impatiently.  
  
"The prophecy of two hundred years ago. Let me tell you..." His eyes became unfocused again, and he began to recite.  
  
"In centuries to come, when darkness finds  
  
A hold of the world, there will be three binds:  
  
Two men and a woman will become one  
  
In all of their doings, hindered by none  
  
But the darkness they will vanquish some day,  
  
In which, they will find themselves in the ray  
  
Of light shining from the darkness within  
  
The confines of our small world we live in.  
  
One man will be cunning and full of thoughts,  
  
The other with common sense by the draughts.  
  
They will be bound first, and you shall then see  
  
The hardships of having a bond of three,  
  
For if two is hard, then three will be worse,  
  
But they will turn out in the end, through curse  
  
And every spell, charm, incantation, too,  
  
Will be met very ably by these two.  
  
But then comes the girl in a swirl of haste,  
  
Mysterious and very out of place.  
  
She will come through grumbles of the duo,  
  
Making the two a much-needed trio.  
  
She will have powers greater than many,  
  
The basis for defeating th' enemy.  
  
Her name will be Krystin, spelled in that way,  
  
Helping you find her when she comes to stay.  
  
Her powers will be more than any seen,  
  
For in her is the power of Katrine,  
  
The sorceress of olden days gone by,  
  
More powerful than all that are on high  
  
Positions in the courts of our laws here.  
  
She will control elements, far and near,  
  
Being, by far, a most powerful witch  
  
With all of her at their full hitch.  
  
She comes to help in this battle for peace,  
  
Which will not be simply just a small piece  
  
Of cake; it shall be harder than they all  
  
Expected, but will be worth all its fall  
  
And rises. They will face much, decide fast,  
  
Change slowly, live life to the fullest, past  
  
The problems they will face. They will behold  
  
The ponderous sight of the meltings old.  
Prediction made the Twelfth Month of the year 1688 by Gwendolyn Cravitz."  
Holmes stopped, the prediction finished. "That is the prediction in the English translation. It was originally in Elfish, but has now been adapted to the English tongue. It is a rough translation, but it works to convey the message."  
  
I was stunned. I just kind of sat there, just wondering exactly if this was actually happening. I finally spoke up. "Who exactly is Katrine?"  
  
Watson spoke this time. "Katrine was the lover of Merlin."  
  
"But I thought Merin never had...a lover!"  
  
"But he did have a lover, a woman named Trahlirona when translated into the English language. I rather like her elf name better, but it is extremely hard to pronounce.  
  
"Trahlirona was the most powerful, respected, and loved of her elfin people. She was the most beautiful, also. Her legendary powers and kindness are still sung about in the Halls of Olden Days. Her favorite element was Wind, but she also loved Light very much. She is still known today as the most powerful elfin maiden ever to be seen in all of this earth's history.  
  
"But, she was frozen in time, never to be seen again. That was when she became known as Katrine. She never had any children, which puzzled everyone when we heard that prediction. But, as it is, it seems that we were wrong the whole time." He soon saw that I wasn't listening from then on. "Krystin?" I wasn't listening. I was too busy in a memory of a dream.  
So...what did you think? Is it all right? I'd love some feedback! I'm a little worried about it myself, being something more of fantasy than anything else, even if it does have Holmes in it. Holmes had never been my original fanfiction choice, but, in some twist of fate, I used Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Weird. Oh well. I just do hope you aren't offended by anything in here...maybe I should make the rating more...high...you know what I mean. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!! I love to read reviews, it seems, even if I've only read one! Suggestions are savored!!! 


	3. Wishing for a Stradivarius

Hey, everyone! The formatting for this had better go through!!! Grr... Anyway, I just wanted to thank Kerowyn and A.Spencer for reviewing this fic. I'm glad you think it's good. It's really informal (in such a way as to horrify my English teacher), but I'm glad it's not really offending anyone or anything like that. And remember, this will become even more non- canonical as it goes...major OOC-ness and such and so forth.  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own any of the characters.the only ones that are mine are the ones that you haven't heard of before, like Krysin/Alice and Katrine. The others are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle...yeah, the immortal Doyle himself owns Holmes and Watson and 221b Baker Street and Mycroft and "The game is afoot!" and everything else...  
My dream? Oh, it had been so long ago. But I can't forget. I might as well try to forget that my hair is on my head instead of on someone else's.  
  
I remember it clearly. I had fallen asleep that night, a peaceful darkness, a time to forget the worries of my little world, even at seven years old.  
  
It first started with being in a beautiful field, filled with flowers. The warmth of the sunshine felt good on my face. Strangely, the moon was nearby, luminescent in its slight glow. The wind was wafting scents around me. Everything was surrounded by a bright aura. There was a beautiful stream nearby, lovely to look at. Nearby was a blazing fire, graceful as the flames kept on with their dance. Beyond that were snow-capped mountains, majestic in their hugeness, their snow beautiful and pristine white. I filled myself with the things my senses brought to my mind, which were keener there than I had ever remembered them to be before that. I loved it whole-heartedly.  
  
But then came a huge thunderstorm, bringing with it a darker aura that was uncomfortable to me. I was beginning to get scared, worried that this perfect paradise was about to end before my eyes. I could almost hear the thunder laugh at me, the lightning cackle at me. I was scared out of my wits at this point. That is, until I heard a very soft voice call out into the sky in a language I did not understand. Suddenly, the thunder and lightning was gone, vanished with the voice.  
  
I stood up, gazing around me in surprise once again. I heard a trickle of laughter, like the sound of pure silver bells on the breeze, each one crafted to perfection. I stood, listening, a warmth filling me with the sound of each note of her voice. I could tell it was a woman; the voice was too gentle and light to be a man's. I wandered around, trying to find the source of the voice, but unable to, I decided to quit and hope the voice would come to me. She sounded like a great playmate. She did come to me, right when I leaned myself against a huge oak tree. The oak tree sheltered me from too much sunlight, but let enough through to let me feel the warmth of it tingle my skin into life. She came in a bright mist of light and white luminous cloud-like material. I loved it like nothing else. She was beautiful. She had the face of an angel, shining. Her hair was like the sun, shining brightly, illuminating every part of what she saw; yet her hair was black. A raven color, like mine. Her skin was pale porcelain, delicate and smooth. She reached out her hand. I grabbed it, feeling her hand, its touch like the finest silk. We ran with each other, our laughter echoing throughout the forests and meadows and other lands we crossed. We seemed to go everywhere, from the deserts with their camels and hot sand, to the rainforests in South America, humid and green. We laughed at the animals around us, the people who smiled as we passed. It was one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever felt.  
  
We came back to the huge oak tree, watching it in silence. I looked up at her, wondering why she just stood there while we could be playing.  
  
It was as if she could read my thoughts, for she looked at me and smiled. "My dear child," she said, her voice filling the void of sound, "you have been chosen to carry a very big burden. You are to help many people as you grow up, and will continue to do so for the rest of your life. You shall be given very special powers, things you will not understand for a very long time. I understand if you do not understand right now; you will not understand for a very long time. Just remember this: I, Trahlirona...but you can call me Katrine...do give thee powers of my own, for my work on my earth is done. I shall not see you face to face in anything but dreams, but remember that I shall always be here with you, forever. We shall never be separated by anything, unless you use your power that I give you for evil. Just remember that I love you like my own child. I have watched over you these past seven years, and I always will watch over you. I shall remember you always, as you will remember me for always. We will always be together. Just remember that I will always be with you, though we will never see one another. I know this is very confusing for you, but you will understand in time." She looked at me, cupping my face in her soft silken hands. "Little Katelyn, I now give you the name Krystin, for you are my like my little child." With that done, she gave me a small kiss on the forehead. It felt like a little bit of happiness flowed right through me.  
  
She left then, smiling as she went gliding into the forest. I tried to follow her, but I was unable to, being stopped by many along the way. I was terrified at the thought of her leaving me, but then, in my head, I heard, I will always be with you. Remember...  
  
With that, I was back in my room, sweating. I fell asleep again, wondering if I was going to have another great dream like that again.  
  
I did have another dream, where Katrine and I talked with each other constantly. It was so much fun! And she still is with me today, counseling me, helping me, struggling with me, laughing with me. She knows everything about me, though I know very little of her still.  
I was brought out of my memory by a little shock from Watson, which must have taken quite some effort to get a little of it through my force field. I am always vulnerable when I'm not focusing.  
  
"Krystin, please, what have you been thinking about?"  
  
Before I could reply, my stomach rumbled. We must have been in there for quite some time. "I was thinking about getting some food," I said, smiling. "What do you say, guys? Shall we have something to eat?" Before they could respond, I was out of the room, going downstairs to find Mrs. Hudson.  
  
I finally found her a few minutes later. She was a nice looking woman, attractively homely, if you can describe it as that. She was in her late twenties with a very kindly face, blonde hair in waves, and musty blue eyes. I'm surprised her husband had left her so early in life. Sad, isn't it?  
  
Anyway, I had a chat with her. "Hello. I'm staying in a spare room adjacent to Mr. Holmes' bedroom. Would it be possible for you to have our meals done in a twenty minutes' time? I could help if you wish. I do need something to do with these idle hands of mine, though I'm not sure if is better to have them in or out of the kitchen!"  
  
She smiled at this, then decided. "Of course I can have your meals for you in twenty minutes! But you needn't help me with it. I'm quite capable myself."  
  
"But, I forgot to mention, Dr. Watson's in, also."  
  
"Ahh.Dr. Watson is in for once? Well, then, maybe I might need your help!" I suppose that meant that Watson did not have a meager appetite.  
  
Regardless, we began to work in earnest in the kitchen. I learned that preparing food without magic was much more satisfying than with it, and that Mrs. Hudson was very underrated in the Canon.  
  
We had dinner done in sixteen minutes, a record, Mrs. Hudson told me later, considering that Watson was there.  
  
Watson must have quite an appetite. But it could not compare to Mycroft's.  
  
I was about to contemplate if Mycroft had anything to do with everything that was going on when Mrs. Hudson and I reached the seventeenth step to the lodgings. I opened the door to find two very flustered men inside.  
  
Holmes strode towards the door immediately. Mrs. Hudson just ignored his opened mouth and placed the food on the table and left. She must have been used to it by then. She smiled at Watson, then at me, and left the room, making sure everything was in place with her well-trained eyes before leaving.  
  
Once the door closed, Holmes' mouth opened. "Krystin, where are you from?"  
  
"America, as you so stated before."  
  
He was beginning to get irritated already. Good. Very good. "Where specifically are you from?"  
  
"Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I live in Cranberry Township. The travel to Salem had been excruciatingly long until they made a school in Salem, Massachusetts, also. I lived in England for a while, about a year, right here in London, and also in a cottage in Ireland."  
  
"Where specifically are you from in time?"  
  
"2003. The rest of the date is the same."  
  
He paced around the room. I swear, if he had done it much longer, he would have worn the carpet down to shreds. "Is this the future of our world? I am not sure if I wish to live that long!" He was obviously indicating my feminism, style, and language.  
  
"Do not worry, Holmes; I am from a different dimension." He stared at me for just a moment, then stopped, his eyes going from a shocking brightness to a dull introspection. They cleared, though, after a few moments' time.  
  
"Do I exist in your world?"  
  
"As a fictional character only. A question for you, though: Are people such as Edmond Dantes, Oliver Twist, Jane Eyre, and Don Quixote part of history here?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
Watson spoke up. "No, Krystin. They must have their own universes."  
  
Holmes spoke up again. "Do you have any idea why you are here or how you got here?"  
  
"As to how I got here, I have no idea. Concerning why, it might simply be destiny. That is the only reason I can think of with everything that has happened, including the prediction."  
  
"But can the prediction be trusted?"  
  
"Holmes, every prediction that Cravitz has made have been correct," said Watson. "It should be taken seriously. Already, twelve of her predictions have come true."  
  
"True, Watson, but we must look at every aspect."  
  
"Could we please hold the rest of the interrogation until after dinner? I'm starved!" I had had it by then. I needed some sustenance before I could go on. I summoned my meal to me as I sat on the floor, my legs folded underneath me. It was very good, I must say. We did very well, Mrs. Hudson and I.  
  
Holmes and Watson, their gentlemen natures getting the best of them, summoned their own meals and ate with me on the floor, Watson rather stiffly, Holmes rather comfortably. I swear, Holmes is one of the most catlike people I have ever met!  
  
As we ate, I observed both of them. Holmes seemed to be very distracted, only picking at his food. Watson, obviously, was not worried, letting his mind drift to his food as he ate. At least Watson could be distracted from a case for something reasonable!  
  
You know, as I look back on the day, I can see that Holmes was too honored by Doyle (or, now, Watson), and that Watson was extremely underrated. Watson was a very good man. He was even attractive. His face was finely crafted, rounder than Holmes', but, then again, whose isn't? But, he wasn't portly. He wasn't ugly. His hair was an attractive sandy color. His eyes, though a watery blue, were sweet. He does have a brain, which is quite contrary to many different people's beliefs. It's simply that Holmes outshines many people, including Watson and myself. At least, when it comes to deduction and such, he does. But he is underrated, which irks me some. If I ever show this to anyone, this will be a large part I emphasize, I believe.  
  
As we finished our meals, we decided to leave off with the questions. At least, Watson and I had decided to postpone the questioning. I was itching to play that Stradivarius of his. Grr...  
  
We all left for our rooms. I decided it was time to practice piano and violin. I started with violin, the mood seeming to come onto me quicker. Dunno why. Just did, I suppose. That's okay, though. I enjoyed violin very much. It was quite a challenge for me after practicing piano for so long.  
  
I took it out of my bag. It fit nicely being the size of half of my thumb. That was changed soon, though. I certainly can't play a miniature violin that size with an even more delicate bow! No, sir! Just wrapping them in that velvet and cotton took me forever! I took them out and enlarged them. I tested the strings, making sure they were at least somewhat like I had left them. They weren't of course. So, I tuned them, the familiar feeling of the instrument run through me, like a piece of home I took with me on this journey.  
  
The instrument melted into me. I could feel an unexplainable warmth run through every particle of my body with the first note of violin. It was only an open G, but regardless, it was like coming home to a much-awaited fire blazing. Wonderful. It was simply wonderful. I let the music rush from my memory. I played whimsical tunes I made up on my own. I played classic minuets and sonatas. I even did some melody lines from country singers, too. It was beautiful. It gave me a peace I could not explain, this feeling inside me of coming back to where I belong. I loved the feeling of it. It spread throughout me like a welcoming stream of gentleness. I was interrupted by my senses; someone was outside my door, listening intently. A few moments after I stopped, Watson walked into the room. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I must say, that was beautiful."  
  
I think I blushed a little bit. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much."  
  
He walked towards my bed and sat on the edge. "Please, don't stop because of me. I can actually recognize some of what you're playing, unlike when Holmes plays." He chuckled at his own joke. "But, please continue." He sat back, folding his hands together and placing them on his knee. I suppose he was waiting. So, Holmes is not the only one with irritating persistence that leaves you no other choice than to do it or be rude. This will definitely be an interesting, if not irritating and nerve-wracking, stay.  
  
I began to play some Beethoven, which seemed to please him. I then waltzed off into some Mozart and Strauss. He enjoyed the Mozart most, I think, though why, I'm not sure. I personally liked Strauss. But, then again, I enjoyed reading about his life, too.  
  
I ended with a little twist to an adapted version of Pachebell's Canon in D, a little on the more electric-violin style. His eyes opened then. From the corner of my peripheral vision, I could see him sit up and lean over, his elbows on his knees. Interesting, to say the least. At least he wouldn't fall asleep.  
  
I finished with one last, long, and loud note. He began to clap enthusiastically. I usually do not get such praise as this with my musical talents. I was pleased very much. Jokingly, I bowed deeply, my violin and bow in either hand. I was enjoying myself immensely. I looked up and smiled at him as I rose from my deep bow. By this time, Holmes had entered the room, just in time to see me rise from my bow. He began clapping also, only in a more condescending way. He was going to infuriate me like nothing else by the end of this stay. Way before the end of this stay.  
  
I shrank my violin and its bow back into its travel size and covered it in its protective layers. I then put them away in my bag.  
  
I stood up from bending down to put these things in my bag and turned to them. "Excuse me, if you will, but it is getting very late." It had; it was already eleven thirty. Half an hour until midnight. They, taking the hint, left.  
  
And here I am, sitting and writing this. I'm still trying to sort things out, but I'm not sure if I ever will be able to. Oh well. So be it. So be it.  
  
It's already three in the morning. Time to turn in. I wonder when they'll learn about this laptop? Can't wait to see their reactions!  
Hehehehe!!!!! I'm glad I've finally got this out. I just need to keep going...I wonder where this is going to go. I hope everyone that read this enjoyed themselves, and also I hope that you will leave a review after you have read the story. It's really appreciated, and I'd like some constructive criticism...just some suggestions and such, ya know. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! All flames will be used for warming up my personal foot warmers. Hee hee hee!!! 


End file.
